And here we go.
Chloe had told me I was her girlfriend; finger fucked me into submission and KO’D my vindictive Ex-girlfriend. So why did I feel that the zombie apocalypse was fast approaching?
We had been at Chloe’s for 30 minutes and silence had been the only sound. Being the stubborn twat that I am, I refused to speak first. I had done nothing wrong. (EH okay a stretch) I began to pace, two laps around the hallways and I decided on my destination, the fridge. I opened it scanned the contents and closed the door. I repeated the sacred ritual twice more, half hoping that some left over Chipotle would appear but really counting on my actions to annoy the shit out of Chloe and have her break the silence. “Christ Kennedy, my fridge is not like the Indian in the cupboard” snapped Chloe from the living room. (Victory was mine bitches) “Actually” I said walking back out into the living room “I went to get you this for your battle wound” handing her a bag of ice. Was that my original intention? Fuck no, but I’m quick on my feet playa playas.